#450: When my son was young he hated April . . .

Here’s another little sonnet experiment. Let’s try to be super dumb about the rhyme at the end of the line by using the same words over and over—but enjambing some of the lines so that the repetition is less audible and dorky! It strikes me that this has been a poetic goal since the EnglishContinue reading “#450: When my son was young he hated April . . .”

#122: To My Son

Dear son, whatever befalls you in life, whichever direction you choose to go, wherever you go to school and whatever you decide to study, whatever religion you choose to follow, even if you choose, wisely I might ad, to follow no religion whatsoever, to be a spiritual non-religious person, whatever instrument you tackle, even ifContinue reading “#122: To My Son”

#42: The Father’s Day Poem

The Father’s Day Poem My son hid little homemade Father’s Day cards around the house for me to find, hid them several times over so I could find them again. One of them said, “You are a star of men.” Flattering will get you nowhere, son, I said, but he and I both know that mostContinue reading “#42: The Father’s Day Poem”